A Phoenix Lament
by brainandheart
Summary: Two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry is not dealing well with the losses.  Will his friends and his infant godson be able to change that? Co-written with Outlaw's Daughter. Rated T for safety.
1. Death

This will be a short two-shot about Harry two weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts. Mostly Harry angst, but if you squint, there's a tiny bit of Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione in the next chapter. The title and bolded lyrics are taken from Ministry of Magic's song A Phoenix Lament. Co-written with Outlaw's Daughter.

Thanks for reading and please review!

* * *

**I'm tired and thin, haven't slept since the war**

**I'm a mess of wounded skin, like a wine sack that's been torn**

Thirteen days had passed since the battle. Eleven since the Weasleys, with Harry and Hermione, had returned to the Burrow. Not that they really spent much time there. Every day, Mr. Weasley and Percy had gone in to the Ministry to help purge every remnant of Voldemort's regime, often not returning until late at night. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Charlie, Bill, and Fleur had joined the clean-up and rebuilding effort at Hogwarts, spending their days repairing the damage done to the castle and grounds. Ginny had wanted to go with them, but after a huge row with Mrs. Weasley where the latter ended up in tears, Ginny knew her mother needed her. George also remained at the Burrow, and kept mostly to his old room.

Harry threw himself entirely into the work, reveling in the simplicity. There was no room to think, to interpret. It was just move this or fix that. Nothing more.

Currently, he was repairing a section of the outside wall in the dark. Everyone but McGonagall had gone for the day. Ron and Hermione had left around sunset; they had lingered in the Entrance Hall, clearly waiting for Harry, but he had told them to go on without him. That had been three hours ago, and those had been the only words he had spoken all day.

He heard someone behind him and turned his head a little to see Professor McGonagall approaching. She stopped next to him and sighed as she examined the section of wall that Harry had been working on.

"Harry," the name still sounded unfamiliar from McGonagall's lips, "Harry, everyone else has gone. Go home. And take a day to rest; you look like death."

"I can't," Harry said dully, his voice rough from lack of use. His work at Hogwarts was consuming his life. He knew it, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.

Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly. "Harry, I think we can manage without you for one day."

"Professor—"

"Potter, don't make me order you to stay away," she said sharply. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Go home. Rest."

Harry could not muster the strength to argue, so he turned and left. He entered the empty Staff Room, where helpers had been using the fire there to Floo to and from Hogwarts every day. He threw a handful of glittering powder on the fire and stepped into it, saying, "The Burrow."

It was late when Harry arrived in the sitting room fireplace, and the house was quiet, but he could see a light on in the kitchen. Not really in the mood to talk to anyone, he was about to continue up the stairs when he heard his name.

"I'm worried about Harry." It was Mrs. Weasley's voice. "He's so pale and quiet—quieter than usual."

"He seemed fine for a couple of days, but now…" Ginny's voice.

For a few seconds, the only sound coming from the kitchen was quiet clinking of dishes. Then Hermione spoke. "I don't think he eats much anymore, and Ron—Ron, you said you don't think he's really sleeping a whole lot either."

Without realizing it, Harry had been moving towards the kitchen door. His trainer scuffed against the floor, and the four seated at the kitchen table looked up. Guilt and embarrassment washed over their faces at the sight of him. For a moment, the room seemed frozen, and Harry said nothing, not sure if he wanted to agree with or deny their assumptions.

"Harry, dear, you're home." Mrs. Weasley broke the silence and stepped towards him, pulling him into a motherly embrace. "We've kept a cup warm for you."

Over her shoulder, Harry watched the other three, who met his gaze with pity in their eyes. He pulled away. Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do right then was sit and have a cup of tea in that kitchen. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley, but I'm tired. I really just want to go to bed."

"Oh, of course. Good night, dear."

The other three echoed her, but Harry was already halfway to the stairs.

* * *

**In the sacred space, behind the lids of my eyes**

**Mad-Eye darkly holds my gaze**

**And I can still see Frederick's laughing face**

_Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Snape…_

Harry stared blankly at the dark ceiling. Every night he saw their faces, and he couldn't escape it. One after the other in an endless cycle, they paraded across his vision; people he admired, people he loved, all staring up at him with empty eyes. Their voices, however, were not empty. They accused him constantly.

_It's your fault_, Cedric says, _he killed me, but_ _you lived. I am dead, but you get to marry, and have children, and grow old…_

_It's your fault, _Lupin says, _because of you, my son has no father and no mother… _

_It's your fault_, Snape says,_ if only you were stronger, smarter, you could have saved us…_

It's your fault…it's your fault…it's your fault…it's your fault…it's your fault…

He couldn't escape it, and he wasn't sure anymore if he even wanted to. It wasn't like after Sirius's death, when he had wanted to rip out his heart from the pain of feeling. No, this was more draining, as if his heart had already stopped beating and was just waiting for his body to realize it.

Outside the room, he heard footsteps on the stairs and knew that Ron was coming up. Harry turned on his side, away from the door, and clenched his eyes shut. Hopefully Ron would think he was asleep. The door opened and closed softly, and Harry heard Ron hesitate in the middle of the room, between the two beds.

"Harry?" Ron questioned cautiously. Harry made no indication that he'd heard his friend. After a moment, Ron's bed creaked, and a soft thump told him that Ron had given up and lain down. Harry waited until he heard Ron's snores before rolling onto his back again. Eyes open wide, the procession began anew…

_Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Dobby, Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Snape… _


	2. Rebirth

The end at last! Sorry this is so late. We meant to have it up earlier, but I'll just keep it short and say that life didn't seem to like that plan. Anyway, it's up now. Enjoy!

~ brainandheart & Outlaw's Daughter

* * *

** It's not enough to say that time**

**Can mend my wings, and one day I'll fly**

**And it's not enough, this ache less scar**

**Some wounds are still burning**

**Let me live as one earning his life**

The next morning, Harry crawled out of bed as soon as the sky showed the barest hint of light. He didn't know what he was going to do since McGonagall had forbidden him from coming in to help at Hogwarts, but he couldn't stay in bed any longer. What little sleep he had gotten had been fitful, but he was used to that. In the other bed, Ron slept soundly, so Harry dressed quickly and quietly, electing to carry his trainers down the stairs.

At the bottom of the stairs he pulled on the trainers, unsurprised to hear noise from the kitchen. It seemed that no matter how early he woke, Mrs. Weasley was already hard at work in the kitchen, baking and cooking more food than the family could ever eat. Several times he wondered whether she even went to bed at all.

Quietly, he made his way to the back door. Part of him really hoped he could make it outside without her noticing him. However, as always seems to happen, the very second he had this thought Mrs. Weasley turned around and caught him halfway to the door.

"Harry! You're awake!" She sounded so pleased that Harry felt a twinge of guilt. "Are you hungry?"

"Er, not really." He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Don't be silly, you should really eat something." Despite Harry's protests, Mrs. Weasley bustled around the kitchen and produced a plate stacked high with toast. Harry peeled off the top two slices with a mumbled "Thanks," but didn't eat. He turned to leave, but was stopped at the back door. "You're not going to Hogwarts today?"

Harry sighed inwardly. "No, McGonagall's making me take a day off."

"Oh, perfect!" Mrs. Weasley looked pleased once again, "I wasn't able to tell you last night—Andromeda stopped by yesterday, wondering if you'd like to see Teddy. Now that you'll be here, I'll tell her she can bring Teddy for a visit today, if that's alright with you."

At her words, a cold fist clutched him. Lupin and Tonks' son. His godso—_No_. He shoved all of his thoughts away.

"Alright," Harry shrugged. Not waiting for Mrs. Weasley's response, he shouldered his way through the back door. He crossed the damp grass of the garden until he reached the orchard. He had no idea why he'd come out here, but he didn't want to go anywhere else. There he wandered for hours, aimlessly walking amongst the trees, thinking of nothing but his next footstep.

Once the sun was high in the sky, he finally settled down against one of the trees. After a minute, he noticed that he still held the pieces of cold toast. Absentmindedly, he began shredding the bread and tossing it into the grass around him. He looked up to see Ron, Hermione and Ginny walking towards him through the trees. They stopped a few feet away, all three wearing the same sympathetic looks they'd had last night.

"Andromeda's brought Teddy by." Hermione said quietly.

Harry nodded vaguely, idly plucking at the grass next to him. He said nothing, and made no move to get up. They turned to leave.

"You know, I'm sick of this!" Ron spat, spinning on his heel to face Harry. Harry's eyes widened in shock.

Hermione and Ginny glared at Ron, but he ignored them and plowed ahead. "The three of us, we've been trying to walk carefully around you, give you space, time, whatever. But you haven't gotten better. You just work and sulk. You act like you're the only one who lost someone!"

"I know you're all grieving too. But you aren't the one to blame for their deaths!" Harry bit out.

For a moment, nobody spoke, and Harry thought maybe they would leave him. Then Ron snorted.

"Hermione thought that's what this was about. Usually, I'm the thick one." Ron shook his head in disgust. "Voldemort was a rampaging lunatic, mate. He was going after Muggle-borns, killing everyone who didn't agree with him. No matter what he said, loads more people would've died if you hadn't stopped him when you did."

"Maybe, but—"

"They died so that we could live!" Hermione burst in suddenly, her voice shrill. "If you've got yourself set on accepting the weight of the world on your shoulders, then nothing we can say will convince you otherwise, but I will tell you this: if you don't live your life, then you're wasting their sacrifice. They died for nothing!"

Harry tried again to cut in, to protest, but she cut him off, her eyes and voice softening, "Harry, we will never forget them! Did you really think we could? As far as I know, it will always hurt. But we have to live." Harry saw Ron's free hand grasp Hermione's almost unconsciously. Her eyes were wet and her voice was thick as she continued, "People need us—Teddy needs you! If you want to honor Remus and Tonks, then be there for Teddy!"

Harry stared at his trainers to avoid looking at them. After a long moment, he heard Ron and Hermione return to the house, but Ginny lingered. She reached towards him, but pulled back her hand at the last minute. "Harry," she said firmly, "If you go on like this and let your grief eat away at you, then Voldemort won."

It was even harder than he thought to force himself not to look up at her. He heard her let out her breath slowly, and then turn to follow Ron and Hermione. He clenched his teeth, listening to their footsteps.

Part of him, the stubborn, contrary part, wanted to ignore everything they said. They didn't know what they were talking about; how could they?

He said nothing as they walked away, but inside he felt something stir where he had thought all was dead. It felt a little like a heartbeat.

* * *

**Darkest nights turn into dawns**

**Golden lights are chords for songs of love**

**Something death cannot erase…**

The sun was beginning to set when Harry finally stood up and made his way back to the house. He had wanted to ignore everything his friends had said, to fall back into the easy numbness, but he couldn't block it out. For the first time since the battle, he had forced himself to think, really think about everything.

It hadn't been painless, and it hadn't been easy, but he had come to see one thing very clearly. Hermione was right. He had to be there for Teddy. It didn't matter how grieved he was over Lupin's and Tonks' (and everyone else's) deaths, because it wasn't about him. It was about Teddy. He just hoped it wasn't too late.

He hesitated at the back door. Laughing bitterly to himself, he realized just how stupid it was. He was the Boy Who Lived. He had defeated one of the darkest wizards of all time, and now he was afraid of a baby and the closest thing to a family he'd ever known. Well, not for long. Harry pulled the door open and went inside.

Everyone was in the sitting room. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat on the old sofa. Molly had fallen asleep on the shoulder of her husband, who had an arm around her while he was speaking in low tones to Percy and Andromeda. Although it was turned off, Bill, Charlie and Fleur were grouped around the wireless. Habit, he figured. Even George was present, though he sat by himself in the corner.

In the center of the room, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat on the rug. A half-finished match of wizard chess sat between them, but none of them were paying any attention to it. The reason for this was very clear when Harry stepped further into the room. A blue-haired baby was currently giggling in Hermione's arms while Ginny tickled his feet. Ron peered over Hermione's shoulder, and Harry decided he would never let him live down the goofy faces he was making at the baby.

"Harry," Ginny suddenly caught sight of him, and everyone in the room (except Mrs. Weasley, who was still sleeping soundly) looked up and greeted him briefly. Harry winced internally at their rather cool welcome. He really had a lot to make up for.

The other Weasleys and Andromeda went back to their respective conversations, but Ginny, Hermione and Ron just looked up at him as if waiting. Cautiously, he sat down next to Ginny on the floor. Looking each of them in the eye, he whispered, "I'm an idiot, and I'm sorry. You were completely and absolutely right."

"We already knew that." Ginny smirked. All three seemed quite happy to forgive him, at least for now. Hermione beamed, Ron grinned, and Ginny even smiled when he reached for her hand.

Harry looked around the room, and he saw the weariness, the grief, in the lines of everyone's faces, but he could also see that they were starting to heal. They had been dealt a heavy blow, but they were not defeated.

Suddenly, Teddy gurgled, bringing Harry's attention abruptly back to the wriggling baby.

"Oh! Harry, you should hold him." Hermione looked as if she thought this was the best idea in the world.

"What? No, I don't think—"

"Here, you just put your arms like this—you need to support his head—yes, like that—and there you go!"

Before Harry knew it, he was holding his godson. Of course he had seen babies before, but he had never been this close, and he had certainly never held one. He sat frozen, afraid that if he moved he would do something wrong.

Teddy did not notice Harry's nervousness. He waved his little fist in front of his face like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. Maybe it was, Harry mused. He didn't know how babies thought. He studied the little round face and the shock of blue hair. He saw the little chest move up and down with each breath.

"He's tiny." Harry blurted.

"Very eloquent," Ginny laughed. The other two burst into laughter as well.

Harry knew his face was turning red, but he didn't care. Looking down at Teddy, Harry was even surer that Hermione had been right. It was Teddy, and those like him, that mattered. He felt a surge of protectiveness when Teddy grasped his index finger with his pudgy hand. Harry knew in that moment that he would do anything for his godson.

All too soon for Harry, Andromeda took Teddy home, but not before she and Harry had worked out several times for Harry to visit that week. Watching them leave, Harry felt someone's hand slip into his. He turned to see Ginny, and her familiar blazing look that sent a swooping sensation through his insides. His thumb brushed against her wrist. He felt the rhythm of her pulse and he felt the answering throb from within his own chest. _Life_.


End file.
